End of the Line
by smileyanne
Summary: So many things could've gone wrong in the end with Felix's take down. Like what if Tao hadn't shot him soon enough? And one of Major Crimes' own was hurt in the process? My tag to Open Line 4x03.
1. Prologue

_a/n: The Major Crimes episodes they have been handing our way lately have been perfect! Even when they're not about Shandy, there's usually a significant moment this season. Seeing Open Line I couldn't help but think that so many things could've gone wrong with Felix's take down. Like if Tao had not shot him sooner perhaps, and he'd been able to get his hands on the police officer's gun..._

 _My tag to Open Line people._

 _DISCLAIMER: I don't own Major Crimes._

* * *

The hospital was a hub of noises, and she didn't hear any of them. Stretchers being wheeled past, announcements and codes being ordered over the PA, and the general hum of machinery working overtime penetrated the air. Yet the sound that stood out to her the most was the _tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump_ of the blood pounding in her ears.

With a lump in her throat and her wobbly knees; she followed the yellow arrows down an endless maze of hallways. Part of her hoped if she could just continue walking, just keep going and going, that she would never get there. That she would just continue taking twists and turns and hopefully never come and out at what could very possibly be the end.

And because the world was just what it was…when she took her next left turn it was straight into another waiting room. A waiting room that was largely empty except for four chairs filled with various members of her team.

Sykes, Amy, was varying from sitting for ten seconds and pacing for thirty. Julio and Mike were sitting beside Amy's chair matching solem expressions on their faces. While Provenza was five or six chairs away—the closest to Sharon (and the exit)—his elbows resting on his knees and his face hidden in his palms.

Amy was the one that spotted her first. In the middle of her lap; she stopped dead when she saw her…a strange look on her face, "Captain-"

"Amy…" at Amy's outburst Julio and Mike spotted her, the same look that Amy wore appearing on their faces too. The only one that didn't look up was Provenza. Her voice sounded strangled when she managed to choke out a question—"Louie?"

…Well…sort of a question…

"He's not dead." Provenza's answer was worded crassly; something that immediately incited a look of anger on Julio's face, but he held back from saying anything. Sharon was proud of him for that, even if some of her wanted to slap the man herself. "Or, at least, they haven't told us yet."

"Louie Provenza!" She snapped harshly; unable to stop herself. At her rebuke his head slowly lifted from the cover of his hands, and she wondered, for the first time, just how badly she looked herself. Because from her point of view, the man in front of her looked horrible, and yet when his eyes alighted on her _he_ looked almost pitiful.

He didn't apologize—not that she had expected him to. Instead of saying anything; he patted the seat next to him. Gratefully, she sank down next to him; if she had stood a moment longer, she was pretty sure she would be huddled on the ground by now at the rate her legs were turning to liquid.

This day had started out bad—murders always were. But they were commonplace in their world, something they were used to, something they could handle. And now here she was...huddled outside the intimidating bay doors of the intensive care unit—helpless.

All she could do was wait as Andy fought for his life.

* * *

 _a/n: Figured this was a better 4th of July celebration than a sterotypical Independence fic that I would only butcher. Besides, I would like to try my hand at writing some longer MAJOR CRIMES fics in the future. Figured this was a good start._

 _Don't like. Don't review._


	2. Chapter One

_a/n: Chapter One folks, and this is in Provenza's POV._

 _DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN MAJOR CRIMES._

* * *

This case the one they working now, it had been getting to him. To be fair, Provenza knew he wasn't the only one, it was bothering the whole team too. But it was something about letting a known pervert who was praying on unsuspecting women _go_ ,that especially irked the two male members that came from the good ol' boy days—himself and Andy.

It was a bit disappointing finding out that that Malcom guy wasn't the killer after all. If it had been him and not Felix then he would be leading the other four with bean bag guns as they took him in. Not waiting with the squad cars while a whole fleet of patrolmen and the team took on an MMA fighter with real guns.

Sure he was still a crack-shot with his glasses on, but even he could admit that if it got physical in there—he wouldn't be much help. Shoot a guy, he could do, but his days of chasing and tackling had long since passed.

Even if sitting it out made since, it didn't mean he had to like it. Sighing heavily, he eyed the throes of MMA fighters that were stealthily being led out of the gym. With a flick of his finger, he directed the few rookies that had been left behind with him to herd the men out of the way.

…They should be going in any moment now…

…Brandishing weapons, compromising in soft tones…

…Putting the cuffs on…

Right when they should be escorting the bastard out; he heard the shouting. For the most part it was indistinguishable, known of it clear, but he got the general meaning behind it. Throwing open his squad car door; he snatched the gun from its position on the front seat.

He was halfway there; planning on simply making his way in stealthily behind the team for some extra backup. Almost there when he heard the words that made his blood run cold—

" _RELEASE THE OFFICER—"_

" _PUT THE GUN DOWN—"_

' _Pow' 'Pow' 'Pow'_

' _Pow-Pow'_

He was at the door before the rookies could even take a step towards responding.

Maybe this old man could still run.

* * *

Oh and run he did, through the front entryway of the gym and out in to the workout area. His gun at the ready; he thought he was prepared for anything he might find. Except what he did….

When he got to the entrance he was met by a swarm of the patrolmen the team had led in. They weren't shooting or anything, on the contrary they looked absolutely lost as to what do. With loud shouted orders and rough pushes he made his way to the front of the crowd with a lowered gun.

Directly in front of him was a bleeding body—Felix; even from this distance he could tell he was dead. And scrambling up from beside him…Julio.

"Oh crap," he growled under his breath. Just what they needed, Taylor was looking for any reason to let go of Julio already. Another FID investigation and there would be nothing the Captain could do to stop him.

Holstering his gun, he was just about to move forward to help the man up when he realized something. He had heard five gunshots, now from this distance with this much blood, he didn't know how many times they had hit Felix but he was sure it hadn't been _five_ times. Even Julio wasn't that excessive.

Yep, that's when he realized that four of his team members had gone in. But so far he only saw one—

"Lieutenant! Over here," jerking his head to the left; he followed on instinct. Tao was huddled behind one of the punching bags that hung from the rafters. A puddle of blood was quickly pooling around his knees and spreading.

"Who?" Tao didn't have to answer; Provenza was already there pushing aside the offending bag.

Revealing the prone body of a gasping, blood-soaked Andy.

Immediately he dropped to his knees with a few choice expletives as he took in the scene. Tao was crouched over his partner, both hands trying to stem the flow of blood from what looked to be a large abdomen wound. The bag came swinging back; smacking him dully against the side—he hardly felt it.

Tao tossed him another clean, folded up piece of fabric that he was pretty sure was a suit jacket. Linking his hands he pressed the cloth down heavily; his eyes resolutely staying focused on his task. If he looked there, then he wouldn't have to look at Andy's heavily lidded eyes, at his sickly pale complexion, or at the stark red of blood dribbling out of his mouth and beading at the corners.

"What happened?"

"We got the gym cleared out," Mike answered tersely, "then came in with the guns. He was complying at first; until Officer Roberts over there went to cuff him. Felix grabbed him and his gun and put him in a chokehold. Julio tackled, Felix got up and to the gun. It's all my damn fault!" He finished in a self-deprecating hiss. His jaw clenching when Andy took a rasping, shuddering breath.

"It's not your fault Mike—"Julio interrupted before Louie could answer; crouching down in the rapidly enlarging pool of blood, he shucked off his suit jacket and balled it up. "It's mine. I let my temper get the better of me again."

"No! Julio you did the right thing. If it weren't for you he probably would've—"

Underneath Provenza's hands he felt the limp body being racked with a wet, shuddering cough. Screw not looking. Mike and Julio's bickering fell into the annoying buzz of background noise as he took in the sight of his bleeding partner.

The sights he had imagined were nothing compared to the reality.

Andy wasn't just pale, the rapidly cooling corpse of their perp had more color in it than he did. The only color came from the stark red that spilled from his mouth as he choked on his own blood.

Vaguely he heard the words _'three shots'_ and _'should have worn the damned vests'_.

Andy's eyes were open, hazy and out of focus, but open all the same. Lazily they tried to lock onto his form—

"Shut the hell up! The both of you! Where's that ambulance!" He shouted at the bickering pair across from him. His knees were killing him; knelling on the hard ground, but he couldn't give a damn. Still he would give Andrew Flynn hell for making him run. Once he was sitting up in a hospital bed, giving the doctors hell and flirting with all the young nurses.

"I called it in sir." Sykes huffed as she appeared beside him. A folded up piece of cloth appearing in her hands as she joined the party. "They should be here in four minutes…."

"Sh'ron."

Okay, maybe not flirting with the nurses, the stupid idiot. More like flirting with their esteemed Captain.

He coughed again, harder this time. And this time the mouthful of blood was larger, this time….Provenza didn't feel the idiot start breathing again.

That idiot. That goddamned idiot actually had the nerve to die. The cheek!

Abandoning the idea of stopping up bullet holes with a soaked piece of cloth (enough people were doing that anyway). He started on compressions…

"They better be here in two."

When the paramedics arrived; he was pushed away from his bleeding partner. Straight into the arms of the junior members of the squad as they watched the men trying revive their lieutenant. They were shouting terms that sounded bad as they loaded him onto a stretcher and started to wheel him away. Terms that really only Tao could understand, but that the others got the general gist of—

Andy was dying, and they weren't stopping it.

Of course it didn't help that before they shut the ambulance doors and screeched away; they were able to hear their last shouted words.

"We're losing him! Charge the paddles!"

Together the four of them stood huddled together in broad daylight. Blood coating their clothing and any exposed inch of skin; they looked like a scene out of a movie.

A really bad movie.

"We need to get to the hospital."

"Someone has to stay here to clear up the scene." Three disbelieving pairs of eyes shot towards Amy.

"He's—" Provenza snapped; choking off abruptly when he realized what he was about to say. "Did you not hear what they were shouting? Since none of us were smart enough to get in the back of the ambulance, by the time they get to the hospital. He could be..." He huffed, frustrated, and trying to contain his anger before he hauled off and decked the poor unsuspecting woman.

Thankfully, Julio took over for him. Clasping his shoulder briefly; he leaned towards Amy, his deep voice taking on a calming effect. "Amy, we need to be there."

To her credit; when she realized what they were implying, she hung her head. For such a seasoned officer, he sometimes forgot how young she was.

"C'mon let's get going. I'll drive." Tao placated the group as he started to herd them towards one of the squad cars. Julio and Amy were sliding into the backseat, and he and Mike were about to open their own doors—when Mike stopped.

Looking at him from over the hood, Mike looked scared about what he was going to say….

"Someone has to call the Captain."

' _Those stupid freaking idiots!'_

"When we get to the hospital," he resolved, "and when we have more information."

In the way Mike's wise face turned to him; he could tell that the man across from him (and possibly the rest of the squad) wasn't as ignorant about the situation as the two idiots would've liked. Not ignorant at all—they both heard the unspoken words….

' _Until we know what we are going to have to tell her.'_

* * *

 _a/n: Sharon :( Oh yeah-and Andy :/_


	3. Chapter Two

_a/n: Still Provenza's POV._

 _DISCLAIMER: STILL DON'T OWN MAJOR CRIMES._

* * *

" _Yes, lieutenant? How did it go?"_

" _Felix is dead."_

"… _Julio?"_

" _No, it was Tao. He went for a gun. He had no choice."_

" _Okay. He needs to stay at the scene until FID comes—"_

" _There's something else."_

" _What?"_

" _We have an officer down."_

" _Who?"_

" _Flynn. Three shots. No vest."_

"… _..I'm on my way."_

* * *

He was still alive when they got to the hospital. Hanging on by a thread according to the nurse, but alive nonetheless. Meaning when he dialed _Sharon's_ number; he at least didn't have to be the one to tell her that the idiot had gone and died on her.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Julio was there. Shuffling him towards the men's restroom, he stopped him in front of the bank of sterilized sinks. Gesturing down at his appearance; the man left him with only a softly spoken, "She doesn't need to see that."

The restroom door bounced behind him.

It was the first time that he had taken in his appearance specifically. From the knee down, his pants were spotted in dark patches of blood—nothing he could do about that. Luckily his shirt had already been rolled up to his elbows, yet it was still absolutely ruined.

As for his arms…from the tips of his fingers to the crease in his elbows, they were coated with blood. He looked as if he had just spent the last half hour trying to keep his partner from bleeding out in front of him.

Without thought; he spun and slammed his hand against the lever of the soap dispenser. The plastic creaked ominously from the force of the hit, and the heel of his hand ached. He did it again—and again.

Turning on the water with his foamy hands; he stuck them under the steaming water.

What was he going to do? He didn't ask himself that to be melodramatic. For the amount of years he had been on the force—of course he had lost partners before. Good men. Better men than Andrew Flynn.

Yet it wasn't them who was dying somewhere in this building. It wasn't them he personally wanted to beat to death if he dared to freaking die. It wasn't them who had personally put up with his cranky old ass on and off the force for as long as Andrew Flynn had.

It wasn't until he realized that the reason why his skin was pink now was because he had scrubbed it raw. Flipping the water off; he ignored those stupid wall dryers and pushed open the heavy door that lead right into the waiting room the others were in.

Trudging past those stupidly clean people; he threw himself down in one of the uncomfortable chairs farthest away. He threw his head down in his hands and huffed.

He swore if that idiot went and died, leaving him with an irate Captain—he would never forgive him.

* * *

The tell-tale _click-clacking_ of her heels gave her away. That was something he appreciated about the Captain. While the Chief's kitten heels had allowed her to sneak up on them at any moment in time; the Captain's skyscraper like heels (he really couldn't understand how women managed to walk in those things) gave her away every time.

Provenza didn't bother looking up to greet her. Why should he? He didn't have any news. Since he had sat down the only information they'd gotten was from a rushed nurse. A quick little tidbit that basically summed up to her telling them that he was in surgery and not dead yet but not to hope for anything.

So when he hears Amy's shocked, "Captain" he tells her that. Sure it's crass and to the point, but his hands are blocking his sight so he doesn't have to see her. Doesn't have to see how she reacts to that news; if her eyes light up with hope or if they darken in anger. He can't help himself from adding the almost cruel—"Yet."

"Louie Provenza!"

She snaps; he's never really heard the Captain snap before. Not even when she was FID, or even when she's confronted with the worst suspects. Yeah she's raised her voice before, but she has never sounded like this before…

His head is snapping up to stare at her; ready to snap back before he gets his first good luck at her. And suddenly….he can't bring himself to reply with a witty retort.

The sight in front of him; almost makes him recoil. In all the years he's known her; he doesn't think he's ever seen her look like this before. The funny thing is, if the lost puppy dog look she's giving him is anything to go by; he doesn't think she's even aware of just how bad she looks.

Her usually annoyingly perfect hair was rumpled, stray little wisps curling around her temples. While her typically immaculate suite was wrinkled to hell and back. And what topped it all off was the look on her face….

It was the look Flynn had on his face while he followed her around the office like a loyal St. Bernard.

It was that look that made him sigh and pat the seat next to him.

At his gesture; she sank down in the proffered seat as if it simply required too much energy to remain standing. Making a noise that sounded almost like an involuntary half-strangled sob.

Not that she would ever acknowledge it.

* * *

For an indefinite amount of time they sat there.

Amy keeping up her inane pacing. Julio and Mike whispering in tense, worried tones when they thought him and the Captain couldn't hear.

And the….. _woman_ was sitting quietly beside him; staring off into space. Really, he almost jumped out of his seat when the single door that separated their waiting room from the rest of the hospital burst open.

It was only one brief moment that he thought the noise had come from the large bay doors directly across from them. But in that half a second; he had heard the collective intake of breath from the others when they had all thought their visitor was to be a doctor coming with somber news.

Instead their visitor was a woman that burst through the door in a flurry of movement. Her features were barely visibly under her mane of dark hair, but it was enough for him to recognize her.

Out of the corner of his eye; he could see Julio and Mike getting up to stand with Amy in order to greet the intruder.

Stopping in front of the seating area, and completely ignoring the four others in the room; she blew a strand of hair out of her face impatiently.

"Sharon," Nicole greeted in a breathless rush.

Moving with more energy than he had seen in her since she had arrive; the woman next to him shot up from her seat. In a blur it seemed like the young woman rushed at the older woman; smashing against her so hard it looked like it may hurt. The Captain didn't make a sound in protest, only making a soft humming noise as she wrapped her arms around the younger woman's shoulders.

Even from his seat on the other side of the room; he could see the way Nicole shook with silent sobs. It was like the Captain's own personal bat signal—a distressed child. He swore that woman would mother a damn raccoon if she thought it needed her.

In reality, that stupid idiot Flynn never stood a chance.

The other three in the room were looking at each other warily. At the moment he couldn't remember if they were introduced to Nicole the last time she came to the squad room. Most likely, because it seemed like the main source of their shock came from Flynn's daughter greeting their Captain so informally and then proceeding to sob on her shoulder. Not from the presence of a complete stranger to them.

"Oh honey," Sharon murmured; running a soothing hand up and down her back. She continued whispering to the distraught woman, but from this distance he couldn't make out anything else she said. It continued like that for a while; Nicole crying, the Captain soothing her, and the rest of them sitting around like awkward idiots. Until it seemed as if Nicole was reasonably more calm, and pulled away slowly.

Keeping close to the Captain; he watched as she wiped at her streaked mascara. Smiling shakily to the older woman; he saw her lips move as she turned to the others.

"Hi," she greeted them; even he could tell that she was embarrassed by her little scene, "I don't know if you remember me—"

With her usual smile—it was Amy that stepped forward with an outstretched hand. "Nicole, Lieutenant Flynn's daughter. We remember."

Giving another smile; Nicole reached out to shake Amy's hand, all while making sure she kept physical contact with the Captain. Pulling back respectfully; she turned to the older woman again.

"Lieutenant Flynn," she repeated, as if testing out the words in her mouth—she gave a watery laugh. "I'm not use to hearing Dad being called that."

The Captain gave the younger woman her best impression of a smile.

He wondered if she honestly thought anyone bought it.

They talked for a little while longer, in that way with their heads close together like women sometimes do while gossiping. Somehow, he doubted they were just exchanging idyll gossip.

At some point in time they eventually separated; the Captain wandering over to one of the large windows that dotted the hallway, and Nicole venturing over to his side and taking the other woman's former seat.

Yeah, he knew Nicole. He'd known the young woman sitting next to him since she was just a little girl with her hair in pigtails. Once upon a time he would've said better than anyone else in the room did. But now; seeing the two women's interaction—he had to wonder if somehow his _boss_ had managed to sneak her way into his place.

That made him have to consciously put forth the effort to hold back a snort. If her place involved having Andrew Flynn following her around with heart eyes, there was no way in hell he begrudged her that.

Nor did he begrudge either idiot the hailstorm that was going to rain down on them when this little dance they were doing came to an abrupt end.

* * *

 _a/n: Sorry I know some of you were probably looking forward to Sharon's POV on this. And I honestly wanted to! But my opinion on that is that on the show it seems most of the Shandy relationship 'development' comes from Andy and is pointed out by outside sources. Honestly, I just don't know how Sharon would think yet!_


	4. Chapter Three

_a/n: Taylor...eww_

 _DISCLAIMER: I do not own Major Crimes._

* * *

" _How is she?" The woman next to him muttered under her breath, but he could tell that it was directed at him._

" _What do you mean?" Better to play dumb than to get into this conversation._

" _You know what I mean Provenza." Sharp eyes, the same color as her father's turned to look at him._

 _He sighed and his gaze turned to the woman they were discussing. The Captain—Sharon—stood at the window, her petite body silhouetted by the setting sun. On her best days the woman was just plain intimidating, and on her worst—downright terrifying. He'd never really noticed just how tiny she was._

" _Last time I checked; they're still dancing around the issue." He eventually huffed._

" _So the whole 'dates that aren't date' thing isn't resolved yet?"_

" _Not even close. But I think at least your father has finally realized where his head is at." What he didn't add was that it was so far up his ass that he couldn't see straight._

 _Nicole snorted. "Finally. I was wondering when he would realize that he's crazy about her."_

" _Crazy was about three stops ago."_

 _At that she raised a manicured brow; silently acknowledging what he was implying. "What about her."_

 _It was his turn to snort. "Like I said, crazy was about three stops ago."_

" _Really? Think she's knows yet?"_

 _Pondering that thought; he continued staring at the topic of their conversation. Was it just his , or were her shoulders really slumped in a gesture of defeat?_

" _If not, she's about to."_

* * *

Contrary to their last visitor, this one was an unwelcome one—an _extremely_ unwelcome one.

Walking in as if he owned the place; Taylor slammed the single door open with all the consideration of someone who just couldn't be bothered to care. When Provenza spotted him, his smug stride quickly shortening the distance between him and the waiting room—he couldn't even be bothered to withhold his groan.

"Captain Raydor," his voice boomed through the eerie silence. Before their Captain could turn around in shock at her suddenly shouted name, her whole team was up on their feet—including himself.

"Chief Taylor—," Mike started; it was in the nature of the man to instinctively try and soothe any tense situation. But sadly, Taylor couldn't care less about the intents of the lieutenant.

"Care to explain why your team left a crime scene unattended? With a dead suspect?" In any other situation, Provenza would've appreciated the way that Taylor's face was turning red in anger.

To punctuate his words, Taylor tried to move forward towards the frozen Captain. He didn't get very far before he was stopped in his tracks; his words dying in his throat….

Anyone would've responded the same way, really. If faced with what Taylor was confronted with…

Before Taylor could get closer than five feet to the Captain; Julio had intercepted him. While Taylor may have had a good foot on the other man, Julio was stronger—not to mention looked as if he was ready to rip the Chief's head off if he dared to take another step closer.

He wasn't alone either; quickly following Julio was Amy. Tense and ready, closer to the Captain than Julio was but still clearly guarding her, she wouldn't need a gun to take down the man in front of her. That was to say, if Julio even let the man walkaway alive if he dared to take a step closer.

Wisely enough, Taylor conceded to the implied threat and stayed where he was.

It was a stalemate. Taylor was still angry, and more than likely that anger was increasing with every moment he was being prevented. But he didn't push his luck against the two team members that stood in his way.

Most likely, they would've stayed like that all night. With himself and Mike ready on the sidelines; he himself was hoping for the chance to shoot Taylor. What Mike was hoping for, he didn't know.

The silence was broken when the Captain took a step forward; lying a gentle hand on Amy's shoulder and reaching out to lay her other one on Julio's.

"It's okay," she soothed in a voice they never would've heard in the squad room. To emphasize her words; she squeezed their shoulders gently.

Without taking their eyes off of the man in front of them; Provenza watched as they slowly eased back. Not completely standing down, but instead opting to flank the Captain rather than physically blocking her from view. Clearly making sure that Taylor still knew that they were within striking distance.

Now that there was no one blocking him; the coward resumed with his usual bluster. "Care to explain to me Captain, why your team left an active crime scene?"

"Taylor, in case you haven't realized, we're standing in a hospital for a reason." He wasn't aware that he had intended to speak until his mouth was already open and moving.

Taylor whirled around when he spoke; narrowing his eyes and locking down on him. "Yes, I'm well aware that an officer was injured. But even you lieutenant know standard operating procedure in such situations. Especially when it was one of your own that shot the subject."

There had been many times throughout his years on the force when he remembered being angry at a superior. While he may get annoyed with the Captain on a daily basis, it was never like this. Never in the white hot anger that made him want to finally deck the man.

Surprisingly enough, it wasn't himself that spoke.

It was the Captain.

"It's Andy," she piped up; every head in the room turning to face her.

"What?" Taylor growled, frustrated; his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. In response he saw Julio and Amy tense up again.

But Sharon was determined. Not quite up to her Darth Raydor façade, but scary enough all in her own right.

"The officer that was hurt was An—Lieutenant Flynn. The man that you use to be your version of friends with? Even if you aren't, you've known him how long? The least you could do would be to use his name. And we wouldn't be here if it was just a graze, you know that. Andy was shot, what?" She turned to Mike.

"Three," he answered promptly.

"Andy was shot three times, all in vital areas. Right now the reason why we haven't received any information is because he is still in surgery—even three hours later. I don't think I need to be the one to explain to you how this…" She didn't finish.

They all knew what she was about to say.

She didn't need to be the one to acknowledge out loud the grim outlook on things. While no one had the balls to come out right and say, as the hours ticked by it was an ordeal that everyone in the room was dealing with.

When the unchanging stretch of time that they were currently in finally came to an end, what would they be dealing with?

Would there be the long road of recuperation looming in front of them?

Or would they have a funeral to plan?

"Andy?" Leave it to Taylor to completely ignore the point being made, and to latch on the least consequential piece of information.

"Excuse me?"

"You referred to Lieutenant Flynn as 'Andy'."

Even as Provenza watched; he could see the blood draining out of the Captain—Sharon's face. In the heat of the moment, it hadn't occurred to her that she might've misstepped. And really, she hadn't. There were no rules, no procedures against calling subordinates by their names. Hell, she called Amy by her name all the time.

But this was Taylor, and anyone with eyes could tell that he would look for any reason to do the Captain. Pairing the use of his first name with the rumors that floated down the halls of the LAPD—needless to say, it was enough for him to give her hell.

Surprisingly, it was Nicole that beat him to the punchline.

"Yes?" She piped in a sweet voice as she stood up to face Taylor head on. The man was clearly shocked to see he had opposition in the form of an unfamiliar young woman—let alone that he had opposition at all.

"Who are you?" He asked with all of the manners expected of the man.

"I'm Nicole. Lieutenant Flynn's daughter," she didn't offer to shake his hand, "and I do believe that Sharon has the right to be left alone for them moment without someone yelling down her neck. Everyone here is waiting to see if my father survives the night. Don't you have a whole other precinct at your disposal to handle one crime scene? Or do you not have anything better to do than to make thinly veiled threats about a co-worker using another's first name?"

Oh, he wanted to cheer! In contrast to her father's hot-headed temper, Nicole had suitably taken down the one man that he could honestly say he despised. With a polite and respectful tone that took the man down three or four notches!

He didn't even try to stop the grim spreading across his face.

Before Taylor could put his micro-sized brain to use in order to come up with a snappy comeback; their happy little get together was interrupted. The large bay doors that all the secrets of the world were hidden behind, swung open.

The man that came out was absolutely tiny; he looked like a kid playing dress up in his father's lab coat. He was _this_ close to how the hell he was allowed to operate on someone when he doubted that he was even old enough to use big-boy scissors—but the clipboard in his hand stopped him.

"Family of Andrew Flynn?"

It was slightly ridiculous, the way they all froze. After so long though; they were almost use to the waiting—it was better than the 50/50 chance of hearing something they didn't want to.

"I'm his daughter," this time Nicole's voice was barely more than a whisper, she could almost give Sharon a run for her money in how pale she was.

Boy-man zeroed in her; briefly he consulted the ever mysterious chart. "Nicole?"

"That's correct," this time she stumbled forward to shake his hand, "my father?"

He spared a moment to be grateful that the young woman next to him had the guts to ask what he and the others didn't. Tao, Mike, Julio, and Amy hovered awkwardly and worriedly on the outskirts of the scene. While Taylor stood there smack dab in the middle like an idiot. And he was fairly sure that if Flynn was around he would be busy making mother hen jokes at his expense.

In the tension surrounding the climactic scene, no one noticed the sedate woman drifting off into the background.

Doctor What's His Face took a deep breath in preparation to give the verdict that had the potential to change everything.

* * *

 _a/n: Ugh, Taylor!_


	5. Epilogue

_a/n: Last little bit people! Back to Sharon's POV._

 _DISCLAIMER: I don't own Major Crimes._

* * *

The day was bright and sunny, and far, far too hot for anyone's own good. A stereotypical sunny day in LA. Meaning that not even a sainted judge's chambers, as dark and as bleak as they were, was exempted from the sucking force of California's heat.

Rusty, Andrea, and Judge Grooves in his heavy black robes—were on the verge of sweating. Subtly trying and to shift around in their seats to find the best draft coming from the courthouse's valiantly fight A/C.

Nevertheless, it didn't prevent the older man from giving Rusty a well-deserved stern dressing down. While she understood where he was coming from herself as a law enforcement officer (and even to an extent as mother). The larger part of her that was Rusty's mother first and foremost—felt sympathy for the boy.

She was proud of him though, he was respectful and took the dressing down as a man. And in the end he was even allowed to leave with permission to continue _Identity_.

Sharon was about to leave with Andrea and Rusty; might've even allowed Rusty to drag her to that burger joint he loves for dinner…If, at the last moment, she hadn't been delayed.

Sitting back down in her, she had the distinct feeling of a school girl getting called to the principal's office. Not that she ever had in school.

Pulling her blazer tighter around her body; she took a steadying deep breath.

"Yes, Judge?"

"Come on Sharon," the man sighed when he realized this was the way she was going to be, "it's just us here. Why can't you call me Henry?"

She sighed heavily; making sure to keep her body stiff. The moment she dared to relax would be the moment her eyelids would slide shut heavily. While she wouldn't fall asleep straight here in Henry's chamber she wouldn't put it past herself to come off as drunk in the way she wobbled where she was.

Across the desk from her; she could see the way his eyes narrowed in on the shiver she failed to repress.

"Yes, _Henry_?"

He smiled slightly, but it was a worried—tense smile. And it made her want to run. She knew what this after hour's conversation was going to be about, and it wasn't about Rusty or Alice. It made something big and heavy settle on her chest and in the pit of her stomach.

"Rusty, he's some kid isn't he?"

"Definitely. He's brilliant." While she was always up for talking about her children, at the moment it helped nothing. Brilliant, unique, sweet, and compassionate where just some of the words that could be used to describe her son. She didn't particular care for him to be used for a stalling conversation.

Her eyes must have reflected that much; because Henry's face morphed into something as if she had just chastised him.

"How are you Sharon?" His hands fidgeted nervously, and she felt the urge to smirk. It was something about the transfer from Internal Affairs to Major Crimes that changed her. Use to, she could care less to see people squirm in front of her. No one liked her, all because of her job. Now, in Major Crimes, she was unashamed to admit that now when faced with all of the murderous creep she saw daily—she loved the power she held.

Then again, maybe it was just because she had spent too much time with Provenza and…..

"I'm fine," if her voice was choked—well, Henry had enough manners not to say anything.

"Really?" This time his tone wasn't the one of the infamous Judge Grooves. It was Henry, just Henry. The man that had been her acquaintance and good friend for almost a decade now…And Henry was skeptical.

"I'm the head of the Major Crimes division of the LAPD, and on the side—I raise a child. I'm not as young I use to be; Rusty keeps me on my toes and the cases are only getting more difficult." She hadn't planned on spilling her guts quite so much. Not at all in fact. All she had wanted to do was placate Henry.

Henry however, didn't seem placated at all. "Well, do you want to quit? You know there is always positions open for you? You don't even have a law degree and I know for a fact that both Gavin and Andrea would move heaven and hell if you even gave an inkling that you were ready to leave that place?"

Oh, she couldn't help but snort. She still had that heavy tense feeling weighing down on her, but the sheer truth in those words blindsided her for a moment. Lately, with all that had been going on, it was only too easy to forget that her world didn't only consist of her squad and the others at the LAPD.

"No. No, Henry, I don't want to quit…None of you ever liked that I went to work there, did you?"

Henry smiled at her reaction and rested his elbows on his desk; leaning forward he shook his finger at her. "No. No, Sharon, let's get something straight. We were fine with you in FID, it was your transfer to Major Crimes that we all had issues with."

" _We were fine with you in FID,'_ the irony in that was almost ridiculous. In FID, they were the only ones that were 'fine' with her. In Major Crimes, she knew that she had gained…at least the respect of most of her team.

She gained some only to lose some.

"You didn't lose anyone," Henry's sharp voice broke through her reverie. No longer boisterous with good humor, it was the same voice he had scolded Rusty with.

"I didn't realize I had said that out loud," she murmured; looking down she stared at her hands that rested uneasily in her lap.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer—still intense but with a pleading tone in it. "When was the last time you've slept?"

Her first instinct was to answer _'months'_ , but it wouldn't have been the truth. Weeks ago, after one of their—now rare—dinners… _he_ had confronted her. It had been a knockdown, drag-out fight that had consisted of his annoyingly earnest pleadings (that always seemed to get to her) and her stubborn silence.

Looking back, that night had been fairly embarrassing, but she had gotten a full night's rest. Crashed on his very comfortable leather couch…and waking up tangled up with him.

Nothing had happened—except sleep. But for her, that meant more than anything else that could've occurred.

Instead of answering; she did something that incriminated her more than any answer she could have given—she stayed stubbornly silent. Predictably, Henry took that as any answer all in its own.

"We're worried about you."

"I'm fine."

"How's Lieutenant Flynn?"

It's funny, how, even though she was expecting since the very beginning, the question still took her breath away. No matter how much she knew logically it was bound to be asked…

"He's fine," if her voice was abnormally high-pitched; she rationalized it as stress, "Recovering, but he'll be okay."

His fingers tapped a staccato rhythm against the wood of his desk, steady and threatening. It grated on the edge of her sanity as he bided his time to speak.

"How would you know?" Henry wouldn't tell her, but the glare she was sending his way wasn't nearly as ferocious as she thought it to be. At the moment, she looked the farthest from scary that he had ever seen Sharon Raydor look. Though, he figured it was kind of hard to look like death incarnate with pale skin, shadows under her eyes, and an unhealthy overall gaunt look about her. "We're worried about you."

* * *

Drifting to the land of consciousness was never an easy task. Trying to open your sluggish eyes when every muscle in your body was protesting it, was hard. And the harsh lights of the hospital room always stung and burned when first exposed.

It was of no small mercy to find that this time some kind soul had come along and thankfully turned the lights off for the oncoming night.

"Ugh," every time he had to fight his way back from the land of drugs….There was always one second, one second that he forgot where he was and what had happened. When he took all of the symptoms into consideration it came across as waking up from an epic hangover.

Without fail, for that one second, he thought that he had failed. After twenty years he had proven everyone right and screwed up again. In that moment he believed that everything he had worked to regain was gone.

Horrible.

Always horrible.

This time was no different. He went through the motions of dragging himself back to the land of the living…Only to find, that in the middle of his moment of self-hatred, something _was_ different.

That in its self wasn't anything new. In hospitals doctors, nurses, and Louie Provenza were in and out at all hours of the night. If it had been one of them; he wouldn't have batted an eye.

As he was remembering everything that had happened before; he realized that the woman that was sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs beside his bed—was Sharon Raydor.

Curled up in what looked to be a very painful position on her back. Even though her head was tucked against her arm, he had a clear view of her face. She had always been a fair woman, but in the glow that came from the multiple machines hooked up to him—she looked down translucent. Not helped the dark circles that rimmed under her closed eyes.

He was fairly sure that he was hallucinating her presence. All until that auburn hair of hers that curled in loose ringlets around her shoulders, drifted in the drafty breeze of the hospital room. Sending one tantalizing, life assuring whiff of her impossible to place perfume his way.

He was still lying there in his hospital bed like an idiot when her eyes fluttered open to reveal her startling green orbs.

"Hey."

"Hi," she breathed; shifting to sit upright in her seat.

While she sat there half asleep, he was busy drinking in the sight of her. Sure she didn't exactly look great, but he had been stuck in this hospital bed without seeing her—

"It's been a week." Of course his traitorous mouth had to go and blurt something asinine out. He wasn't mad or anything…But it had been a week, a week that had passed in a confused haze for him as he wondered what in the world he'd done wrong.

It's not as if he had expected her to come and play nursemaid for him, but he would've at least liked a brief visit. Hell, he was starting to realize that when it came to Sharon—he would take anything he could get.

And as quickly as he could accuse her, he was reassuring her. "It's okay."

Not like she needed it. Sharon never needed anything from anyone. It was just that, she had looked so beaten down, so worn down, that he couldn't bear to see her look so dejected.

"No it's not," she shot back instantly. Her eyes widened in that way she had when she was trying to make a point. He could practically see the self-deprecating thoughts that were torturing her.

It ate at him; with a groan he tried to push himself up on his elbows. The multiple stitches, gauze, and tape that made up his abdomen pulled at him mockingly. At a particularly painful part he slipped a little back into the bed, his head spinning in circles.

Sharon's hands were on his chest; gently pushing him back into his previous position. Her hands were small and cool to the touch….yet instantly more effective than any painkiller those white suits could administer him.

"Don't do that!" She rebuked him even as she fiddled with the rough hospital issue sheets and blanket. It was funny, he didn't even think she realized that she was tucking him. "Don't do that, you'll pull your stitches. And then you'll have to go back into surgery…."

Her complaints fell off into a mumble on deaf ears. Seeing her so worried, so insistent that he be still and behave like a good little invalid….

"Sharon," he folded her smaller hands into his large ones as he tried to catch her attention, "Sharon!"

When she realized that she was affectively trapped; her ramble teetered off as she fell limply against his hospital bed. But he waited until she turned her eyes to his that she made his point.

"I'm okay. I'm going to be okay. For once in my life, I'm going to behave. As soon as possible I am getting off these painkiller, and starting physical therapy. Before you know it, I'll be at my desk. Annoying both you and Provenza while you wish that I was still holed up in a hospital bed."

Her laugh was weak and watery, but it was a laugh nonetheless—and it made him smile. "Never," she promised with a smirk.

Maybe it was wimpy and as Provenza liked to say—weak as a little puppy dog. But, hearing her say, that small affirmation, it warmed his heart just a little.

"We'll see about that."

That sat there in comfortable, familiar silence. Vaguely he saw that he had been absentmindedly rubbing her hands in between his. Trying in vain to warm up her freezing hands.

When he saw her shiver again—without thinking—he reached out and shifted her. Propping himself up against his pillows; he situated her on the hospital bed with him (stiff and uncomfortable with her worries of hurting him) she was tucked into his side.

"I was….it was…I didn't want to see you—"she mumbled against his shoulder.

"Gee thanks." His chest rumbled with his laughter as he waited for her to explain herself.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's just," her head shifted against him to look him in the eye as he looked down at her.

He never had been able to declare with absolute certain just what exact shade of green her eyes were. Sometimes they were a dark emerald, and sometimes they were a smoky viridian.

At the moment, her eyes held a suspicious twinkle as she looked at him. And he considered himself lucky to remember his own name. Her slim fingers caught his chin and tilted it down to her level…

It wasn't a cinematic moment by any means—it was better.

And her lips were on his; warm and soft against his own rough ones. He was thankful that he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor at the moment, having Sharon hear the way his heart stuttered and skipped a beat?

Really, it wasn't a passionate, earth-shattering kiss, more tame and sedate. But it was the implications in it…the promise for something more.

When they pulled apart and his eyes opened to find her looking at him so sweetly….She smiled at him, and said simply—

"You're my Andy."

* * *

The crappy, watery hospital coffee sloshed around in the cheap paper cup they provided in the waiting rooms. When he came to an abrupt halt outside of the all too familiar hospital room; it sloshed over the rim against his wrist.

He arrived in time to see the two idiots curled up in his hospital bed together. While it was his instinct to waltz in there and break up their happy little get together. It was the overwhelming sense of _'hallelujah'_ that overtook him at the sight of the woman in there visiting him—that stopped him.

Still, he wasn't such the bigger man that he stuck around to see the rest of their little heart-to-heart after their sappy little kiss. Spinning on his heel and coming back the way he came, he couldn't hold back the annoyed—

"Ye Gods!"

Those _idiots_ would be the death of him.

* * *

 _a/n: Last little part was Provenza's input!_


End file.
